California

Day 44/45. Drove across the California Desert. The first day out I picked up a cyclist riding Interstate 10, he was trying valiantly to crank out miles riding into a 30 mph headwind. I pulled way off the shoulder of the roadway, hopped out of the car and watched him struggling against the demon wind, very glad that wasn't me. He gladly accepted a ride. It turns out that he sent all of his camping gear home and he was trying to jump from motel to motel, hoping the lack of gear would give him greater speed and thus range. I was glad to get him 100 miles further west.

Day 46, 110 miles (2740), I rode from Bakersfield to Reedley CA, through hundreds of citrus groves, the smell of orange blossoms adding a sweet smell to the long day of riding. Discovered that almost all of Hwy 99 is off limits to cyclists, which means more work plotting a ridable course homeward.

Day 47, 98 miles (2838). I rode from Reedley to Chowchilla, around Fresno the citrus groves gave way to vineyards, pistachio trees, and peach/nectarine orchards. Most of the irrigation canals are empty but plenty of water spewing from wells in all the orchards. Riding in the rural orchards is rewarding, all the workers wave, some even try friendly conversations in broken English.

I saw a heartwarming scene early in the day, out in the middle of a citrus grove a dad was carefully unloading five or six youngsters from a pickup truck, the girls were in dresses, the boys had ties, ages probably 4-8. There was a large blanket spread out, with high backed chairs for the kids to sit, I couldn't tell if it was a party or a baptism or similar, maybe it was a celebration of Lent? Whatever, they didn't require anything more than the orange grove to celebrate (they were definitely a Hispanic family). It would be hard to find a sweeter smelling place to have a celebration.

The inability to ride Hwy 99 dealt me a setback today. I needed to cross the San Joaquin River NW of Fresno, I tried to access the bridge west of Fresno but Hwy 41 did not allow cyclists, so I continued on to the Hwy 99 bridge hoping it would allow ciycists access. No luck. I only needed about two miles to cross the river, so I decided to stick out my thumb and solicit a ride. I gave it an hour, not a single car or pickup even slowed to indicate they were even thinking about giving me a ride (I was right after a traffic signal, where traffic was moving slowly, with a huge open shoulder where a vehicle could easily stop and talk to me). When my hour elapsed I decided it would be faster and much more rewarding to simply ride slightly south and another 20 miles west to utliize the closest bridge that would let me cross. It was more pleasant riding in the friendly confines of more vineyards and orchards.